8. Aurora
T he white envelope was stark against my rainbow doormat when I got home last night.
The black familiar scrawl on the front stood out against its light counterpart.
I remember the days when I used to get excited whenever I received a handwritten letter.
I would find them in my bag or locker, and my heart would start to race as butterflies went to war in my stomach, but that’s because they were always from Harden.
They’d be filled with new information that I’d previously asked about him, questions he had in return for me, and confessions we’d never told anyone.
They were my favorite thing in the entire world to receive, but this letter isn’t from Harden.
It’s from him .
I snatched it off the mat before anyone else in the dorms could see it, desperately unlocking my door and not stopping until I was safely locked on the other side of it.
I hate the way they make my heart race, in a way that Harden’s never did, I hate the way they feel in my hands, and I fucking hate the way I’m scared to even read them anymore.
They started about thirteen months ago, right when Everest left for college, and at first I thought they were his idea of some sick joke.
That he and Griffin were playing some elaborate prank on Harden and I, but what I thought was harmless soon turned sour.
Every other week a letter arrived, followed a couple of days later by some sort of gift, but as Everest pulled away, the letters got more intimate.
The person knew where I’d been, what I was wearing, things I’d had for lunch, and every word was sickening to my stomach.
Everest’s an asshole, but he would never do something like this, so that meant a stranger was sending them.
I tried to ignore them at first, I scoffed at the cheery, descriptive text about how proud they were of me and everything I had been up to, but they soon turned more intimate.
Desperate pleas to have me, fictitious rants and fantasies of us together, and wishes and hopes for our future.
Every letter sent me further into a spiral.
I pulled back from my friends, from my family, and with my parents busy with work, Archer off playing hockey, and Everest no longer watching my back, no one cared to look deeper at why I was no longer happy.
I stopped reading them about three months ago, it was too much to take in, and with no one to talk to about it, I felt completely helpless.
Except I’m not just helpless, I'm also stupid, because I thought they'd stop when I left New York. I’m here in a new town where I know nobody, I thought I was free, but still he found me. I should have told someone, I know that, but I just didn’t want to make a fuss out of nothing.
I mean, it’s not like the letters are threatening, they’re just, you know, wishful of something I really don’t want.
Still, I barely slept all night, too scared of every little noise I heard to completely relax, and by the time the sun had come up, I’d already completed all my homework for the week.
Now I’m standing outside my dorm building with my small suitcase and a dress bag, waiting for Roger, my driver, to arrive to pick me up.
Tonight is Archer’s engagement party, which means Everest and I need to head back into the city.
I’m heading back early, because not only does Ever have practice today, so can’t come until later, but I also want a chance to visit the shelter I normally volunteer at.
My eyes can’t help but scan my surroundings. It’s early, which means there shouldn’t be many people around, yet still I can’t help but feel like someone is watching me. By the time Roger rounds the corner and stops by the curb, I am already storming toward the car.
“Miss Gray, may I take your things?” he asks, walking to greet me, his eyes crinkled in confusion about my apparent rush this morning, but I just want to get home.
“That would be great, thank you, Roger,” I reply, my hands trembling with adrenaline as I pass over my case and dress bag.
I don’t even give him a chance to open the door for me, I just rip it open myself and shove inside, startling a little, as I find Everest already seated and glaring at me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whisper at him in surprise, and his insufferable smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth, as if he forgot we’re in a stalemate.
“It’s my brother’s engagement party tonight, I was invited,” he states blandly, and I contemplate punching him in the dick for being such an arrogant asshole.
“Don’t you mean your stepbrother?” I toss back, slamming the car door shut behind me, and his smirk finally drops.
“Come on, Rora, I was drunk when I said that,” he starts, but I hold my hand up to silence him.
“Save your bullshit, Ever, I’m no longer interested,” I tell him truthfully.
I’m so fucking done chasing after him, and I’m not going to beg for his attention anymore.
“And besides, I didn’t mean what you are doing here for the party, I meant why are you here now, in this car,” I confirm in exasperation, smoothing down my skirt, before fisting my hands beneath my thighs and trying my best not to look at him.
“Again, it’s my brother’s engagement party,” he repeats, leaning back in his seat and surveying me with those moody blue eyes that look both tired and hungover, as our driver climbs back into the car.
I exhale deeply, knowing how long of a drive this is going to be with him here. “I thought you were driving into the city later this afternoon.”
“Is that why you scheduled poor Roger to pick you up at 8 A.M.?” he muses, that smirk once again tugging on the corner of his perfect and insufferable mouth, and I will for my heart not to react.
“Don’t you have practice on Saturdays?” I ask, presuming he is running on a similar schedule to what Archer used to, as I turn my focus outside of the window, trying my best to ignore his looming presence.
“Ah, well, I got suspended last night,” he says casually, and my head snaps back around toward him.
“You got suspended? What for?” I’m sure he can hear the surprise in my question, which is stupid considering it’s not exactly the first time he has been suspended. More like the hundredth.
In fact, I’m pretty sure he only got through high school due to his eidetic memory, because it certainly wasn’t for his attendance or behavior.
“Fighting.”
“Fighting?” I repeat in confusion. “But you didn’t have a bad fight with anyone during the game…” I start, but then trail off, knowing the fight didn’t occur during the game. No, it occurred in the locker room afterwards. “Please tell me you didn’t hit that poor guy just because he looked at me.”
His smirk is back. “Nah, Griff is the one who hit him,” he says slowly, as if he thinks that may placate me, but it doesn’t, especially when he casually adds, “I’m the one who broke his ribs.”
I pick up my leather bag and smack him with it. “What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You?” Each word is paired with the hit of my purse, and he takes them all, allowing me to rage out completely until I am not only pissed off, but breathless too.
“Trust me, Aurora, I ask myself that question everyday,” he replies with a resigned sigh, before he turns toward his window and effectively ends the conversation.
We don’t speak again for the rest of the drive.
Once we get back home, he disappears the second we step in the house, not even stopping to greet our parents.
Which means I smile politely through breakfast, and their questions, before excusing myself and heading to the shelter.
I spend the rest of the morning there, lost in the presence of all the animals, and catching up with the old couple who owns it.
It’s the only place in the world I can find any peace lately, and though it’s only been a couple of weeks since I was last here, it feels like a lifetime.
Unfortunately for me I can’t spend my entire day here, and far too quickly it’s time to head home and start getting ready.
Everest is still nowhere to be seen when I arrive, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I push inside, kick off my boots and hang up my coat, moving to head right upstairs.
“Rora, is that you, Honey?” My mom calls out from the kitchen, and I sigh inwardly, before painting a smile on my face and heading in the direction of her voice.
“Yeah, you okay?” I ask, taking in the array of bags around her on the kitchen island, and smiling at the tendrils of hair falling from her rollers.
My mom lives for planning events, she enjoys it so much, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get stressed.
“Yes, I’m leaving soon to help set up. David is already there and apparently the caterers are going rogue,” she replies, not even looking up from her notebook.
“I’ll send Roger at 6 P.M. for you and Everest,” she adds, and I’m glad she isn’t paying attention to me, because it means she doesn’t see my grimace.
“Sounds great,” I lie, grabbing a smoothie from the fridge, before focusing back on her. “I’m gonna go get ready,” I tell her, not waiting for her answer, before I high tail it out of the kitchen and rush upstairs.
Three hours later I walk downstairs in my black silk dress, holding my breath when I find Everest already waiting by the door.
He’s wearing a custom fitted black tuxedo that makes his ocean eyes look even brighter.
The second my foot hits the bottom step, he turns in my direction, assessing me darkly, and there isn’t anything I wouldn't give to know what he’s thinking right now.
His stare is intense and unwavering, as I close the distance between us.
Every step feels like I’m walking on a pit of coals, on my way to meet the devil, and I wish I could pinpoint when this change occurred between us.
When did we go from friends who could tell each other anything, to whatever we are now?